Chances
by hexagon street
Summary: There was a chance, one out of a million, that they would see him again.
1. Chapter 1

Soo this is my first story on this site. I am considering making this a two or three shot, if people actually read it.

Warning: Swearing and a few f-bombs.

;;;

 _July 31st, 1969_

They sent my brother to Vietnam one week after his eighteenth birthday. It wasn't fair.

Nobody expected him to go. But he did, because that is the world. The drafts wouldn't halt to kepe my brother safe at home.

It had happened just when we thought we were out of the woods, just when we got our hopes up that maybe the drafts had passed us by, just when we thought that we might be the lucky ones...they send my brother that goddamned letter.

The youngest of us. Still innocent and pure. He could pass as my twin, minus the hair and the color of his eyes.

And believe me, I had taken that into deep consideration. Me instead of him. No one would ever notice.

But Ponyboy had known me too well. Always has. He'd been standing in the center of the kitchen, all of our eyes on him while he stared at the letter in his shaking hands with a certain disbelief. My heart had been pounding - _not us not us not us._

Then he looked at me. His eyes had been hard but I could tell he was scared as hell.

"Don't you fucking dare." his voice shook just a little.

No one had known what he'd meant by that but me. And then we'd just both started crying, right there in front of everyone, tears slipping from our eyes in perfect unison.

 _Not him. Lord, not him._

Darry, always the strong one, had stepped up and slung his arm around my brother's shoulders and pulled him in close.

"It's ok," he had said. "It's ok."

But it couldn't be. Not this time.

I think he was more convincing himself instead of reassuring Ponyboy. Because right then, Darry had been anything but brave. Our walls had finally crashed, like we knew they would someday.

We were just never sure how.

;;;

 _August 5th, 1969_

He's leaving.

He hugs me goodbye and I cough on a sob. This could be our last hug. The last time I ever see him, alive. I can't stand the thought.

So I will myself to just stop thinking.

Ponyboy doesn't look like himself with his hair cut short like that and his uniform that makes him look like every other recruit there. But there's something else that's different about him too. He looks weak. Scared. But hell, he has a right to be scared.

I don't know if he could possibly be as scared as I am. It's fucking hard to imagine.

I can't think of anything to say. God, I can't just say _goodbye._ Goodbye is too final. And this? This can

only be temporary. It has to be.

Instead I just smile. It's a fake smile but I hope it looks convincing for Pony's sake. I've learned that if you make something that's a big whoop seem like no big deal, you are more likely to be successful. And lord, Ponyboy _had_ to be successful.

"I'll see you soon." I say. _Hopefully alive._

He smiles too, strained. "You know I will."

Before he boards the plane he hugs Darry, too. I see him whisper something into his ear. Darry's still trying to keep up that strong façade he's always had, but it's useless. His face is a mess of worry lines.

And then he just leaves. Running away like the track team star he's always been. He stops only once, to turn around and wave like a kid saying goodbye to their mom when they get dropped off at school.

To me, he still is that kid.

I can't bring myself to wave back. I can only watch as he runs, farther and farther away from me.

;;;

 _September 7th, 1969_

He's been gone for a month but it feels like years.

Everytime the TV blurts out the latest news and casualties on the war, I click it off with reflexes I never knew I had. I like the blissfulness of being perfectly oblivious, pretending none of this is really happening.

I really do sympathize with Ponyboy on his night terrors, now. Because lately I've been getting them too. Except mine always happen when I'm awake.

I just lay there in the dark, in Pony's room like we used to when we were kids. I promise myself that if he gets back - no _when_ he gets back - I will sleep in the same bed as him again. Because I know he'll be afraid. And I want to help him.

And then they start. My mind floods with _what-ifs._

The biggest of the _what if's_ , _what if he dies?_

Then I try to imagine life without him waking up too late in the morning on the weekends, just as I'm about to head off to work. His cranky teenaged banter about being sore from track or a particularly despicable teacher.

Then the most terrifying part of it all.

My mind forms a blank.

;;;

Please review :)


	2. Chapter 2

Your reviews had me elated. I woke up and immediately started to write after I read them. Thanks!

Also again, swearing and f-bombs coming in hot.

;;;

 _October 14th, 1969_

Darry knows me too well. But that's no surprise. He's been reading me like the back of his hand since I was four years old. But the difference between now and then was that I could be manipulated back when I was young. Now that I'm older I won't budge.

Everything passes by me in such a blur. Life goes on, leaving poor old Sodapop Curtis behind in a puddle of sickening worry for his younger brother.

I see that Darry worries too. But instead Darry worries about me worrying about Ponyboy, which I think is stupid of him.

More people die every second. We both know that. But there's not a damn thing I can do to help that not be my brother.

Sometimes Darry just plants himself next to me and looks straight at me, right into my eyes. He says, "I'm worried about ya Soda. You gotta do _something._ You ain't helping Pony if you do _nothing."_

I am about to ask Darry what my taking part in activity has to do with Ponyboy's wellness. But I don't because then it's obvious to me that he had only meant it to get me off my ass while thinking I am some way helping my brother in Vietnam. But I'm smarter than to be fooled by that.

"Stop fucking worrying about _me_ so much. Huh?" I spit, harsher than I had meant. "Your youngest brother is in the damn war and all you can do is stand around and tell me to get off my lazy ass."

I immediately know that was the wrong thing to say when Darry looks hurt. Normally, these things would bounce right off him.

"Sodapop. This is all I _can_ do." Darry stresses, trying to sound hard and cold and mean but it just wasn't happening. He sounds scared. He looks scared. But Darry is never scared. "There ain't a flyin thing I can do for Pony right now. He's out of my reach. But you ain't, and I can't lose you too."

Those words hit me hard. _I can't lose you too._

I'm all that Darry has left. I'm not _his_ anymore and he no longer holds the title of 'guardian'. But I'm still his little brother.

And suddenly I realize that once again I am being dubbed with the _asshole_ label. I feel like crying all over again, just like when Ponyboy got his letter. I don't know why I can't fucking pull myself together.

;;;

 _November 5th, 1969_

The letters start pouring in, each one more blank and vague than the one before it. By now we're lucky if he get a few inarticulate sentences. Not letters, just _notes._

 _Darry and Soda,_

 _How's Tulsa? I miss you. Things are ok here. I am counting down the days._

 _Ponyboy_

 _Darry and Soda,_

 _Man do I miss you. And the gang. Tell them I say hi._

 _Ponyboy_

But we don't see much of the gang anymore.

The unknowingness his writing leaves me with just about shakes my bones. Sometimes I even watch snippets of the news, just to get an idea of what the hell is going on and try to link it to his letters. But this is all too big of a mess.

Occasionally I write back. It reminds me of writing to him in Windrixville, begrudgingly giving Dally my letter to take to him while begging him to give me his whereabouts. I was blind, not knowing where Ponyboy was but still finding a way to give him a piece of my mind.

Because that's what brothers are for.

Back then Windrixville had seemed like the worse it could get. I had no fucking clue, though, until this. The world had been fairly kind to us so far. Sure, it threw all sorts of deaths and tragedies our way but for the most part, we recovered almost unscathed.

I can't really see that happening now.

When I write back to him, I be sure to always write a lot. I can just see him opening the letters in some army base camp, smiling and not wanting them to end.

I want to give him something to look forward to. If need be, something to live for. He has to know that we're still here. Doing nothing but waiting for him.

But then he goes to write back and realizes he has nothing to talk about except seeing people be killed or actually doing the killing. I know he does it and Darry knows he does it but no one ever talks about it.

Ponyboy wouldn't want to worry us. I know that much. He never did, but in doing so, he always managed to somehow anyways.

;;;

There will be about two more chapters, at least that's my plan.

Please review :)


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